


Lore Keeper, Life Reaper

by celestialriptide



Series: Legends in the Forest [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Bedtime Stories, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood fixation, Forests, Gore, Horror, Human Sacrifice, Legends, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Monsters, Mystery, POV Keith (Voltron), POV Original Female Character, Rough Sex, Rumors, Secrets, Vampires, erotic descriptions of a dead body but not for necrophilic purposes, lorekeeper keith, more along the lines of when you call your food better than sex, of a sort, or getting turned on from watching someone else eat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 06:45:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18773374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialriptide/pseuds/celestialriptide
Summary: It all started about 150 years ago with the disappearance of Takashi Shirogane.





	Lore Keeper, Life Reaper

**Author's Note:**

> This is my love letter to vampire stories, begging people to write them darker and bloodier.  
> [Find me on twitter](https://twitter.com/astralundertow)

Deep in the woods just outside of town, there lies an estate that no one dares go near. 

The easiest way to reach it is just off the nearest road. Unused, often, all its own. But if one were to follow it ten miles out and look to their left, they might see the remnants of what once was a beautiful stone drive leading deeper into the forest.

If one were to follow the cracked, ancient looking path through the trees, they might feel a chill down their spine. Likely, they would want to turn back. 

If they did not, however, they might be enchanted when they reach the clearing to see the remains of what was once a great home. 

Though vines crawl up the windows, and the shutters look a gust away from falling, the home sticks out. Unkempt weeds sprout up between the boards of the rotting porch beneath what looks like may have once been a swing. 

If one were to make it this far, they may notice a million different details. How the smudged rooms behind the dark, grime caked windows look lived in and fresh. The light that seems to flicker from somewhere on the second story. 

They may notice that, outside of the overgrowth and porch, the house is not in bad shape outside of the stripped, peeling paint and purely aesthetic decorations that have seen better days. They may think that the structure doesn't look to have been abandoned as long ago as a glance would want them to think. 

If they don't notice, they may decide to leave. But if they do, they may get curious. If they were to try and make their way to the door, the trees around them may come alive. They may feel as though they're being watched. They may run when the growling begin.

If, by some chance, they held cowards courage, they may press on. 

They wouldn't be seen alive again.

So, therefore, no one dares go near the estate that lies deep in the woods just outside of town. As enchanting as it may seem, luring you closer while warning you away.

The forest has quite the body count. The locals know to stay away. 

Tourists, however, don't know the danger. And those who do often don't believe it. 

Keith knows the stories like the back of his hand. Some days, he thinks, he knows the legends better than he knows himself. He knows them, he's sure, better than anyone alive. The rest of the town knows it, too.

It's not unusual for a stranger to be pointed his way. Most frequently those who come specifically for it, poking around and asking for information on the woods. 

"Well, I don' know much 'bout it all, but I know someone who can help ya," someone may say when pressed, "yer gunna wanna go talk ta Keith. He can tell ya just 'bout anythin' you wanna know 'bout them woods." 

To these he often impresses the danger they'd face, should they go exploring. 

Infrequently, it's those who raise their nose to the townsfolk, asking in their high voices, "what is there to do here?" in a petulant way that sets locals on edge.

"If ya' want somethin' real interestin'," they'll whisper like it's a secret, "You should go talkin' ta Keith. Boy knows everything there is to know 'bout these parts. Lemme point ya in his direction."

To these he never does. 

One might consider it a sacrifice while looking over the body of an errant traveller missing its throat, a small price to pay to keep the locals safe. Aloud they might declare, "Looks like tha wolves got 'hold of another'n."

Regardless of what one might consider it, there are few things about the town that Keith loves more than telling the stories. He loves seeing each new reaction his words bring about.

He loves the pure, delighted excitement from those who come to him, bouncing on their toes while they stumble over an introduction. The innocent way their eyes will sparkle as they ask him the same questions they asked whoever sent them. 

Most of all, he enjoys the way they light up when he smiles, gentle and comforting, as he tells them, "Yeah, I can tell you anything you want to know."

He loves telling the tales, and this expression earns them the more gruesome ones. Maybe it's cruel of him, but it warns them away. He's fond of those with an innocent wish to explore. He's been called sentimental for it, to which he refuses to agree. 

There are other reactions he enjoys, too. He loves watching them scoff, playing at uninterested while their eyes give them away. Skepticism turned morbid curiosity as he spins a supernatural tapestry full ambiguous implications. He knows all the buttons to press, the elements to weave in to make sure they explore further than they would alone. 

It helps the town sleep at night, their perceived sacrifice, and he has always loved his neighbors. That's why they send them to him. He knows how to make sure people go. 

"To be fair," he told someone once, "I give them more than enough warning. Curiosity killed the cat, not me." 

It had earned him a very unimpressed stare. He had met it with a badly concealed smile, the corners of his mouth twitching against his efforts until he earned a heavy sigh. 

"But satisfaction is supposed to bring it back, Keith." He had laughed, throwing his head back in delight. 

"So in this instance, curiosity kills one cat, and satisfaction brings another back. Semantics, love." He'd waved it away; the conversation hadn't been built to last. 

_________________

 

The next time someone is sent to him, Keith’s sitting in the back booth of his favorite diner nursing a cup of coffee as he talks to one of the waitresses on her break.

“Saw some new faces roll into town yesterday,” she says with a bored expression, chin cradled to rest in her palm as she looks somewhere over his shoulder, “do you think they’ll talk to you?”

“Well,” he smiles at her, wide and gleaming, and draws her eyes back to him, “don’t they always?”

There’s a pause, deliberate and heavy.

“I didn’t.” Her tone is soft, a barely there whisper as she looks down. Most may have missed it, but not Keith.

“No,” he agrees, setting down his mug. He crosses his arms on the table and leans forward, catching her eyes, “but your parents did.”

She stares at him, and he offers her a smaller, more gentle smile. He’s glad when she returns it. He doesn’t like for her to dwell on the past. 

“The girls and I were wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner tonight.”

“What about Lotor?” He doesn’t miss the way she tenses at the name. “Does he want me there?”

She’s quiet for a moment before sighing and shaking her head. Keith knows it’s not a dismissal, though. “Lotor always wants you there, you know how he is.”

“I do.” Keith can’t help but laugh, shrugging. “He knows I’m not going to change my mind about him, right?”

“He knows, but he’ll never give up,” she says it with the resignation of someone who has had to listen to too much desperate hope. “That’s why we aren’t telling him you’re coming.”

“Surprise attack?”

“Exactly,” she points a finger at him, then continues with faux nonchalance, “I’m hoping it throws him off enough to just enjoy the company instead of trying to convince you again.”

The bell chimes at the front of the diner, and Keith glances towards it at the same time she twists to check as well. Three people enter, looking more than a little lost. Faces Keith hasn’t seen before. It makes him smile.

“It looks like I might not be able to come tonight, after all.”

She turns back to him, rolling her eyes. She presses her hands against the table and pushes herself up to stand. “That’s my cue. Talk to that husband of yours and just get back to me about a day that works.”

“Should I extend the invitation to him, too?”

“An invitation to you is _always_ an invitation to him. Besides, he needs to socialize more.” Her deadpan way of delivering it makes Keith snort, and he catches sight of her smile as she turns away.

“I’ll let him know, then. It was good talking to you, Acxa.”

She waves a dismissive hand back at him as she walks towards the back to finish her break. “Yeah, yeah. Do your job, story-boy.”

“I always do.” She’s already gone when the words leave him, and he says it too low for her to hear anyway. 

He turns back to his coffee, gone cold and still nearly full, but his attention stays on the newcomers, watching them chat with another waitress in the corner of his vision. They look young, but then again most of those who come to talk to him are. He likes talking to them more than the occasional family that blows his way. No longer children, but not yet old enough to be able to hide who they are. They’re braver, too. Self assured with less to lose.

He pretends not to hear them approach. He’s good at playing unaware. 

They stand at the table for just a moment, hovering impatiently, before the man closest clears his throat and opens his mouth. Immediately, Keith understands why they’ve come his way.

“You Keith?” 

Keith pushes his coffee away and looks at them fully. The guy that just spoke is tall, and looks like he belong at the gym instead of standing in a small town in the middle of nowhere. The girl clutched under his arm, pressed tight against his side looks like she’d rather be anywhere else that doesn’t involve talking to him. They look like they belong together.

“I am.” He raises an eyebrow at the three, tilting his head curiously. “What brings you my way?”

The guy...Keith keeps wanting to call him Chad. He looks like a Chad. Probably-Chad lets go of his girlfriend and brings his arms up, crossing them as he puffs out his chest and puts on an arrogant show for no one. Keith can feel his eye trying to twitch already, excitement and annoyance both flaring in the back of his mind.

“The chick with the cotton candy hair across town told us to come talk to you,” he really doesn’t like the snide way probably-Chad mentions Ezor, “and that you might be able to tell us if there’s anything actually interesting around here. I heard this place was supposed to have some cool shit, but I haven’t seen anything yet.”

Keith blinks up at him, face set. Grinds his teeth. “Cool shit, huh?” Unimpressed.

“Sorry, sorry!” It’s the other girl who speaks, the one that isn’t trying to wrap herself tighter around probably-Chad. Keith turns his attention to her, expression softening. “What-what he meant was just that we’d heard some stories, but we haven’t actually been able to find what they’re about yet. We...were told you might know.”

Keith studies her for a moment, considering. 

“Well, you’re right. I might.” His voice is still indifferent, but the tiny smile he sends her is anything but. “Why don’t you three introduce yourself and sit down.”

“Name’s Trent,” not-actually-Chad says as he nudges the other girl off of him and into the booth first. “This is Jessica.”

Jessica beams at him, all straight teeth and fake vibrance while Trent takes up the rest of the booth. She offers a small wave, and he doesn’t return it. Instead, he glances between the two and then back to the last member of the group. She’s studying them, too, her brows furrowed and sending the empty spot beside Keith quick, nervous glances. He slides over, patting the free space next to him to get her attention.

“Hey, you can sit here. I won’t bite you,” he tries for a reassuring smile, “I promise.”

She seems to debate it for a moment, sending another worried glance towards her friends before she nods and slides into the seat beside him. He notices that she tries to stay as close to the edge as she can, keeping her distance while her leg bounces anxiously below the table. Trying to be as casual as he can, he moves closer to the wall, hoping that he can make her more comfortable.

“What about you? Trent, Jessica, and…” he trails off, studying her face. 

“Emily.”

He smiles as she meets his eyes, and he gives her the most comforting smile he can. “It’s nice to meet you, Emily.” 

He turns back to the other two, leaning his elbows on the table. “So, what were you guys looking for that had Ezor sending you my way?”

“Well,” Jessica is nearly bouncing in her seat as she says it. Her excitement is contagious, and Keith can feel a smile starting to pull at his mouth. He loves the excited ones. “Trent and I heard about some murders-”

And there it goes. 

“Jessica-!” Emily tries to interject, but Keith cuts her off.

“Murders, huh? Is that what they’re calling them now?”

“Yeah, dude!” Trent leans towards him over the table, lowering his voice as though he’s afraid someone might hear, “See, some buddies of mine were telling me about some serial killer that lives out in the forest near here, so we came to check it out.”

“Trent, I told you that’s not what I ended up finding out, though!” Keith can feel her eyes gaze on him, heavy and more than a little nervous. 

“I’m no expert,” but he is a liar, “but the last time I checked, all those deaths were said to be wolf attacks. The forests around here are full of them. Tragic, but accidents.”

“But you admit there were a lot of deaths around here? What about missing people?”

“Public record, Trent.” He shrugs, waving a hand vaguely. “You could have answered that one on google.”

“Yeah but, like, no offense, what if it _wasn’t_ wolves that killed those people? I heard there’s a house out there where all this shit goes down. Suspicious as fuck, if you ask me.”

Keith has to fight to frown at him, and is about to reply when Jessica cuts in before he can. He turns his attention to her, instead. 

“Yeah, like, what if there really is a murderer shacked up in there and all you guys are just lying about it?”

“Jessica!” There’s a solid thunk, and the girl in question grimaces before reaching below the table. 

“Emily, what the fuck? Why’d you kick me?” 

“Because you’re being really rude,” she glares at her friend for a moment before cutting her eyes to Keith, face falling back into the nervous half-smile she was sporting when she sat down. “Sorry about them, Keith, they just get really into stories.”

He waves her concern away, shaking his head slightly at her words. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone loves a conspiracy theory, and I have a soft spot for stories too. Legends, really. Especially the ones around here.”

He watches Jessica and Trent share a look, then Trent is straightening up to look him in the eye. 

“Alright, then do you know any stories about the murders-” there’s another, quieter, thunk and Trent’s eye twitches, “Sorry, do you know any stories about the deaths?”

Keith finally lets the smile he’s been hiding shine conspiratorial at them. “Oh, sure. I know tons of stories about those. Everybody who stops by has something different to tell me about them.”

“What about the house?” Jessica’s hands grab at Trent’s arm, holding it tight as she asks, “Is it real? We couldn’t figure out where it was.”

“Oh, it’s real alright. I can tell you exactly how to find it, if you want,” he pauses for a moment to watch the excitement wash over the two in front of him, “but I have to warn you, it’s probably the most dangerous part of the forest.”

“Why do you say that?” 

“Well,” he draws out the word, looking down at his hands, “around that place really is where just about all the wolf attacks happen. People coming into town because they’ve heard one story or another, going out there and never coming back.”

“And you really don’t think there’s, like, some psychopath hiding out in it killing people who get too close?”

Keith closes his eyes, breathing deep through his nose to hide his anger at the comment. It’s not often that travellers get under his skin the way these have; most have a little more tact when they talk to him. “No, I _don’t_ think there’s some psychopath out there in the forest. Records date back well over a hundred years, longer than any human lifespan.”

“Does that house have anything to do with the legends you know?”

Keith pins Jessica with a knowing look, the corners of his mouth curled into a barely there smile. “Well, that house has just about _everything_ to do with every legend and story I know. I’d be happy to tell you my favorite, if you guys want. It’s the one that the others come from, anyway.”

He watches the three exchange looks, two of them clearly more in favor of staying than the other. Even still, he can tell Emily is interested as well. The hesitant nod she gives just before her friends enthusiastic ones isn’t the only giveaway. 

“Well then. Hope you’re comfortable, because it’s a good one. Why don’t you try the pie here while you listen? My treat.” He doesn’t wait for them to answer, already sitting up to wave Acxa over. She beams at him when he catches her attention, holding up a finger before disappearing into the back. She’s only gone a moment, then she’s making her way to him while balancing three plates in her hands. He can’t help but smile at her when she sets them in front of his audience.

“Thanks, Acxa.”

“No problem, Keith.” She waves him away with a wink, setting a hand on her hip. “Don’t let him bore you three to death over here. Let me know if you need anything.”

There’s mumbled thanks as she walks away, then Keith is shifting forward in his seat to lean over the table as they take their first bites. He tilts his body, making sure he can see all three of them before he starts.

“Alright,” he watches them lean forward as well, eyes already trained on him. He loves their attention. “So, it all started about 150 years ago with the disappearance of Takashi Shirogane…”

_________________

 

By the time Keith’s story is over, the sun is starting to set. Judging by the looks her friends are sporting, Emily can already tell that she’s not going to like what they’re going to do tonight. She almost hoped that whatever Keith had to say would change their minds about trying to explore the forest, but it seems like it’s only made Trent more excited, and Jessica is feeding into it. She knows there’s no way to get them to change their minds, now.

Keith walks out with them, giving specific directions about where they need to go to find the house interwoven with bits of story about what the experience might be like. She doesn’t like it at all, especially not the way his words would almost sound like a warning if not for the happy, near eager way he’s telling them. She trails too far behind on purpose, trying not to have to listen in. 

She hears the click of two doors closing, and she looks up thinking that he's gone. He's not. When she reaches the car, he lays a gentle hand on her arm, cold fingers lightly gripping at her. She tenses, her breath catching in her throat. 

"Emily." He stops, and she lifts her eyes to meet his. There's something about him that leaves her unsettled, a little voice in the back of her mind telling her to move away from him. She's been ignoring it since the moment she sat down beside him inside, but it's getting louder now. The serious look on his face, features severe in the soft light of sunset, sets her on edge. 

His hand falls away from her, but the feeling lingers. She thinks, not for the first time, how trustworthy his eyes seem, completely at odds with everything else about him. She doesn't like it.

"Be careful," he stresses the word, making her eyes widen just a bit, "If you go out there, don't be stupid. Don't get yourself killed." 

A chill runs down her spine. It's almost like he expects them to die. 

"Don't be afraid to run away, okay? You're not a coward for saving yourself."

She opens her mouth, wets her lips. Draws in a short breath. Hopes her voice sounds steady. "You say that like there's something to run away from."

"I told you. People die out there. That's a fact." He smiles at her, sharp, dangerous. Knowing. It's different from any of the other smiles that had softened his face in the diner. "It's how they die that people disagree on." 

She swallows, hard and heavy, leaning away from him. She goes to take a step back, but Jessica’s window rolling down makes her stall.

“Come _on_ , Emily!” She hadn’t realized how quietly Keith had been speaking until Jessica’s voice, loud and annoyed, cuts through the air. “Get in the car already.”

Keith is the first one to move, stepping away from the car while he stuffs a hand in his pocket. He’s still looking at her when she glances away, reaching to open her own door. She pulls at the handle, and she can still feel his eyes on him when the lock gives with a quiet clunk. She tugs, setting her hand on the top of the frame as she goes to get in. She isn’t sure if it’s a mistake or not, looking back up as she ducks to get in. 

He’s still there, a few dozen paces away. Still watching them. Her. His face is set, brows drawn down like he’s memorizing her face. His mouth moves, words too quiet to hear, and then he’s turning away. She slams her door shut as he heads back into the diner, trying to put the moment out of her mind. She doesn’t want to think about how it looked almost like he was telling her, “be careful.”

She takes a deep breath, watching her friends bicker over the radio in the front seat. Lets it out. Steadies herself. “Let’s get out of here, guys.”

“Hell yeah! Let’s find out if that fucking story freak knows what he’s talking about.” Trent slams a hand against the wheel as he speaks, excitement rolling off him in waves. It makes Emily’s heart stutter, and she wonders if it’s too late to convince them not to do this. Jessica is already rolling her window up, a stream of chatter about what it’s probably going to be like if they can find it filling the vehicle. She knows it’s too late.

As they pull out, she sits back and watches the small town pass outside the window, letting their voices fall into the background. She tries not to dwell on the fact that she’s the only one Keith told those words to.

_________________

Twilight seeps heavy through the trees as the car locks behind them, the dense forest blocking what thin sliver of sun might hiding behind it on the horizon, absorbing the light into its darkness. Emily’s hands clench at her sides when Trent’s flashlight clicks on, loud in the quiet of the coming night, and lands on the feeble remains of a path in front of them. 

“Do you think this is really it?” She wishes Jessica hadn’t asked, bringing Keith’s words back to her mind. _They say the moment you step down it, you might as well accept your death._

“This is where Keith said it was,” she doesn’t mean to let the words slip out of her mouth. If she hadn’t, maybe she could have convinced them they were in the wrong place.

“Only one way to find out.” Trent steps forward, shoulders drawn back like he hasn’t just led them to the middle of nowhere to take a stroll through the forest at night. “Let’s go.”

“Jess,” Emily stops her as she goes to follow, grabbing her hand, “I don’t think this is a good idea. Why don’t we come back when the suns up?”

Jessica just looks at her for a moment before rolling her eyes and pulling her hand away. "Don't be a baby, Em. Stay here if you want."

She takes a few steps down the path, "All alone."

Another. "Where anyone could drive by."

Another. "And we won't be there to keep you safe."

Emily watches her stop for a moment and look back. “Hopefully you’re still here when we get back!”

Jessica sprints forward to catch up with Trent where he’s stopped, waiting for them. Emily takes a long look back at the car, remembers that she doesn’t have the keys, and closes her eyes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” it spills from her lips, quiet, barely there, “okay,” her eyes open, and she spins on her heel, “wait for me!”

_________________

They walk in slow silence, wind whispering softly through the trees. The leaves rustle, the forest around them chattering with life of its own. She almost thinks it might be nice out here during the day when she can see what it looks like. As it is, dusk is unkind to them with the only source of light being the spread of Trent’s flashlight where it’s focused on their path, faded light spreading out to cast shadows. 

It’s eerie, how dark it seems. Maybe it’s her nerves, but as she blinks out between the trees she can’t help but feel like there should be more to see. 

“Do you remember if he said how long this path is?” Jessica is looking back at her, expectant. She thinks for a moment, then slowly shakes her head.

“Ugh,” Jessica tilts her head back to groan, “That’s what I thought. I hope we’re not stuck out here for hours.”

Emily hopes so, too. She looks down to the crunch of leaves and stone beneath her feet, trying to ignore the feeling building in her stomach, crawling beneath her skin and settling there like a blanket of thick unease. She let Keith’s story get to her too much, but she can’t forget how real the wolf attacks are. She prays that tonight they aren’t hungry.

Jessica and Trent are still talking in front of her, but she can’t focus on their words. The path here is in better shape than it is closer to the road, and it’s easier for her to tell that it was probably once laid with care. The bricks here are cracked and broken, but nowhere near the gravel state of where they started. She’s afraid for what that says, how infrequently it must be used this far back. 

There’s a snap somewhere to her left, the sound of a branch cracking. Her head snaps up, eyes scanning the treeline around them. She squints into the dark, trying to see further. Another snap makes her jump, a rustle causing her to tense. A chill drops down her spine when she sees a shadow move. 

“Do-” the word catches in her throat, “Did you guys see that?”

"I didn't see anything." Jessica isn't even looking when she says it, face turned to the phone in her hand. 

Something else is moving at the corner of her vision, and she reaches out to smack at Trent's arm. 

"There! Trent-" she hits him again, waiting for him to swing the light around, "Trent, you see it right? It was right there!"

They all stop, thin beam of the flashlight cutting into the oppressive darkness. There's more undergrowth, away from the path they're on. Bushes and vines crawling across the ground, tangling themselves with trunks and roots as far as they can see. She tries not to think about how very _not_ far that is. 

In their moment of silence, the wind seems to howl. Branches move around them, creaking from the force. The sound of an owl calling out, echoing far away, makes them jump. 

One of the further bushes moves. Stills. There's the sound of something scurrying away. 

"You guys see that, right?" She can't hide the breathless way she says it. Her chest feels tight, throat strained. 

"It was probably just, like, a muskrat or something." He moves the light again, and she hears him take a few unsteady steps. "Chill your tits, Emily. Look, we're almost there."

The sound of dry leaves, brittle and broken, starts to move away from her. The sound of shoes scuffing against stone quietens as chills raise on her arms. She wraps her arms around herself, rubbing at her them to try and rid herself of the feeling that she's being watched. 

She turns, pulling her eyes away from the darkness slowly, taking a step to follow the light again, and remembers Keith telling her that she can run away. 

"S-sure," she tries to steady her breath, ignore that muskrats aren't found in the area, "A muskrat. Not a wolf. Sure. Okay."

She follows her friends. 

_________________

Trent was right, the house really wasn’t very far from where she’d stopped them. They’d only been walking for five or so minutes when the flashlight caught on something, and Emily watched the house come into view. 

They stopped together at the edge of the clearing to the house, and next to her she heard Trent take a sharp breath. He let out a curse, and she almost wanted to ask him why he sounded shocked, but she knows that even with Keith’s reassurances that it was out here none of them had expected to actually find it. 

“It’s not what I expected…” Emily makes a low, agreeing noise in the back of her throat. She’d been expecting to find remains of what used to be a house, not something still standing. Keith had said that the last owner was also its first, and that no one else had taken over caring for it since he’d disappeared, so she was expecting cracked windows and a fallen roof, something more nature than home now. Something taken back by the forest.

That is not what’s in front of them.

The three of them branch apart, Trent and Jessica heading towards the corner of the house while she takes slow, curious steps towards the decaying stairs leading to the front door. The closer she gets, the more she notices just how decayed the porch is, tall grass growing between broken boards. On one side is what she hopes used to be a swing, once. Chains hang down, jingling together in the soft wind, pointing towards half a chair. On the other, it looks like a tree had sprouted up, pushing itself between panels to destroy that corner entirely. Broken boards and a stump is all that remains, now. She doesn’t think of who might have cut it down, or why. 

She takes a step back, reaching out to lay an unsteady hand on the remains of a rail. She looks up at the house and takes slow, deliberate steps while she studies it. The paint has peeled over the years, leaving it naked and weather worn. Here and there she can still make out the color it might have once been, and something about the deep purple doesn’t shock her so much as it confuses her. She wonders if it may have once been black. 

She follows the edge of the house, fingers barely brushing what she can reach. It doesn’t seem as dark, here, with the trees parting so wide around what’s left of the estate to let the full moon shine down. She’s not sure it would be enough to see by, though, if they hadn’t just spent the last 30 minutes walking in the dark. The porch ends at a window, caked deep with dirt but no cracks that she can find. She squints at it, trying to see anything inside in the half-light. She tells herself it’s probably a trick of the mind when she makes out the smudged shapes of furniture. Her imagination messing with her, nothing more. 

“Keith said this place has been abandoned for over a century, right?” The shout sends her heart into her throat, startling her enough that she almost falls before she registers the words or recognizes the voice. 

She lays a hand over her chest, willing her heart to calm down as Trent calls an answer to Jessica’s question. “Yeah, but it doesn’t look like it if you ask me. I’m no expert, but I expected more...falling down.”

She closes her eyes and tries to laugh at herself. She tries to remember that there’s probably nothing to be afraid of. Wolf attacks aside, they hadn’t so much as heard one tonight, much less seen any signs that they might be around. Her skin prickles, though, the hair on her arms standing and giving way to goosebumps yet again. 

She feels watched.

“I’m going to check it out!” She doesn’t like the way Jessica says it, something squirming in her gut and telling her they should leave instead. There’s a bird call in the distance again, this one different than the last. The sound of wings, birds shuffling through the trees all at once like they’ve been disturbed. Unnerved, she starts towards the far side of the house.

There’s a creaking starting up, twigs snapping and leaves rustling. The sounds breaking the near silence that kept falling over them. 

“Hey Jess,” she calls out, voice weak while her hands grasp at her arms, “what’s going on up there?”

She doesn’t get a response, at least not one loud enough for her to hear. She tells herself that it’s because she’s too far away, that either her or Jessica’s words got lost in the sound of cicadas instead of letting herself dwell on any of the ideas that her mind throws at her. 

It’d almost be relaxing out here, she tells herself, if not for the fact that she’d spent three hours listening to a local tell her about a century and a half’s worth of deaths and disappearances right before coming. 

“Why tonight...why couldn’t we just come out here when the sun’s up, when we can actually see where we’re at. Why’d Trent insist we come _now_ , this was so stupid-” her mumbled, one sided rant is cut off by a shout in the distance. She stops breathing, trying to listen for any sign that she didn’t just imagine it while her heart beats heavy, painful in her chest. There’s a scream, loud and clear, and it’s too close for her to pretend it wasn’t real. She speeds up, making for the nearest corner, and slams into a chest.

She screams as arms wraps around her, nervous fear finally breaking loose at the contact. It takes her a moment to realize she isn’t dead.

“-ily….Emily!” She jerks, pushing away from whatever’s holding her, and the arms let her go easily. Her hands find their way to her hair, pushing her bangs out of her eyes as her chest heaves. It takes her a moment to realize who it is.

“Trent?” She’s not sure if she said his name aloud, or just spoke it in her head. 

“Are you okay? I heard you scream,” his hands are back on her shoulders, and he’s looking at her like he’s searching for something, “What happened?”

She stares up at him, eyes wide, trying to piece together what he means. “You...heard the scream?”

“Uh. Yeah. I did.” He gives her a look, brows drawn, and his grip on her tightens. “It was you, right?”

She wets her lips, opens her mouth. Tries to take in a steadying breath and figure out what it means if it wasn’t him that screamed, either. She swallows heavy, and shakes her head.

They stare at each other for a long moment, the forest eerily silent around them, and it takes her a moment to realize that the only sound missing is the rustling of leaves. Nothing is moving, now. When it hits her, her chest expands, a heavy breath drawn through her nose. Trent’s eyes widen, and she can tell the moment he realizes as well.

“ _Jessica_.” They say it together, hers a ragged gasp and his half a shout. She’s already pushing past him, feet sliding in the dirt as she runs. She can hear him behind her, heavy footfalls steadier than her own. The house seems bigger, now, more ominous. Her walk to the back felt like it took less time than her sprint back around, barely staying in front of Trent in her haste to make sure her best friend is okay. 

She slides around the last corner, and feels a steadying hand grab at her elbow to keep her upright. She half-jogs the last few steps to the porch stairs, looking up at the still-closed door to the house. 

“Jessica!” She calls out, the word serrating her throat as she forces it out. She looks around her, scanning the edges of the forest around them for anything out of place. Any sign of the other girl.

“Do you think she went inside?” The words float past her, barely registering in her mind. She takes one step away from the porch, then two. A third step, and she’s running. The name rips from her throat again, a sound that started building deep inside her chest before she had even moved, growing until it overflowed when her knees hit stone. Twenty feet had never felt so far.

Something is grabbing at her, pulling her to her feet and jerking at her arms. She fights against it, desperate to get closer. There’s already blood on her knees.

“Fuck, come on,” the voice in her ear is panicked, and so is she, “we have to go. We have to go now.”

There’s a loud sound down the path to her right, something moving towards them as she lets him pull her away. Trent’s grip on her wrist is bruising, pulling her ahead of him to push her into a run. “Come on, go! Move, Emily!”

She stumbles and falls to her knees, hands scraping on rock and wood. She looks back one last time as Trent helps her to her feet, watching a shadow emerge from the trees near her best friend. She faces forward again, stumbling after Trent, and tries to focus on not letting the changing ground trip her up instead of remembering the look on her best friends face, framed by the red that pumped from her missing throat. She doesn’t think about Keith’s words.

_People die out there. That’s a fact._

_________________

By the time they stop running, Emily can’t breathe. Though her chest heaves, it feels like she’s suffocating. She can’t hear over the blood rushing through her ears. She fists her shirt over her heart and closes her eyes, wills herself to calm down while she tries to decide if her inability to catch her breath is rooted in the run, or if it comes from what they’d run from. She doesn’t notice her gasps have turned to sobs until hot tears are streaking her face, and she’s pulled tight against Trent’s chest. She leans against him, free hand grasping tight at his chest while his fingers dig into her back, nearly crushing her.

It takes her a while to get her breathing back under control, but in that time she notices that he’s not much better off than she is. There’s something wet against her neck where his face is buried, but it’s gone when he pulls away. He releases his grip, just enough to let her step back, and she looks up at him. 

“What are we going to do?” Her voice is hoarse, but she still cringes at how loud the words sound. Something caws in the distance, and she has to force herself not to jump.

He lets go of her entirely to pat at his pockets, and when he stops his phone is lighting up his face. “No service. What about you? If we can figure out how to get back to the road, we can get out of here.”

“What about Jessica?” She tries to ignore the way his face crumples, and then his eyes harden while he cuts a look away from her, so she focuses instead on grabbing her phone. “Trent?”

“We’ll just have to tell the police, and-” She grabs his arm, interrupting him.

“No, Trent.” she lets go, looking back the way they came. The way she thinks they came. “I can’t find my phone...I think I dropped it back there.”

He curses under his breath, and she watches his knuckles turn white around his phone. She casts her eyes through the trees, trying to see if there’s anywhere to hide. 

“Do you think...maybe we’re safe here?” It was so silent for a moment after she spoke that she flinched when his laugh rang out, loud and echoing against the trunks surrounding them. 

“Honestly?” He sounds half hysteric, voice pitched high and grating against her ears, “Keith said this place is full of wolves. We need to _get out of here_.”

“Do you really think it was a wolf?” She struggles to keep her voice low, words as shaky as her hands.

“Unless you believe in that stupid ass story,” he looks over his shoulder as he says it, “then it’s either a wolf, or a serial killer, but that shit didn’t look like something a person could do.”

She stifles a sound in the back of her throat, remembering the looming shadow that she’d seen standing over her friend before she’d turned away. It hadn’t looked like any kind of wolf she’d seen, and she’d never heard of one that walked on two legs. She didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell Trent that, though. 

She jumps when there’s a loud snap coming from what she thinks is the direction they’d just came, and then she and Trent both freeze at the sound of shuffling leaves. He reaches out to grab her arm, fingers tight, and her eyes search the forest to try and see something move. Though nothing sticks out, another the sound of another branch cracking rings out, and Trent pushes her in front of him again. 

It takes her a moment to realize her feet are already moving against the hard ground, and she glances over her shoulder to find Trent right on her heels. He keeps looking between her and the trees behind them, and she nearly trips trying to watch him, barely catching herself.

She’s not sure how long she runs, listening to the unsteady rhythm of her own breaths over the sounds of her steps echoing through the trees. She’s not sure what was just the sounds of them running, and what was the sounds of whatever they’re running from.

Trent’s hands reach out to steady her every now and then, catching her as she trips over the uneven ground. She’s never felt claustrophobic before, but if she could hear herself think over her own rapid heart, then she would probably call the forest just that. She feels trapped, and every time a root snakes out in front of her, or creepy ivy ensnares her ankle, the feeling only intensifies. 

She casts a look over her shoulder, and then she catches herself up, body moving forward while her feet stay behind, and she goes sprawling into the rough forest floor. She barely catches herself on her hands, Trent’s steadying help not there, and she can feel rock digging into her skin, stinging where it breaks free.

Emily pushes herself to her knees, looking backwards before moving into a crouch.

“Trent?” She calls the name out into the darkness, slowly getting to her feet. Taking a step backwards, she raises her voice and calls again, “Trent?”

Her back collides with something solid, and then something heavy and cold lands on her shoulder. She freezes, eyes going wide, before she turns her eyes down as slowly as possibly. There’s a hand there, holding her steady, and she gulps.

“...Trent?” She takes a step forward and makes to turn around, but the hand on her shoulder stops her roughly before she can.

“Don’t.” The voice is deep, and it makes her blood run cold. There’s an edge to it that she can’t place, something echoing around it that makes her skin crawl. The weight on her shoulder shifts, pushing her to face a new direction, and her hands shake at her sides. She closes her eyes, and tries to remember how to pray.

The hand slides off her shoulder and down her arm, but she can’t bring herself to move. She could make a break for it, but she can’t think of how that would be any better than standing here and waiting. She feels like it’s inevitable, now, that she’ll die.

Cold fingers trail across her wrist, and then slides to her hands. They pry at hers, forcing her fist to open, and then something metal and cold is pressed into her palm before her fingers are wrapped tight around it. Shocked, she slowly peeks her eyes open, moving her hand up just enough to see the set of keys held there. They’re Trent’s.

A pale arm comes up over her shoulder, stretching out in front of her to point almost directly ahead. The rasp is close to her ear when it comes, “You should run. Get out. Then go left.”

She’s frozen for a moment, trying to process what’s being said. Then the arm retreats, and there’s two hands against her back shoving her forward. 

“I only needed the two. So, _get out_.” She doesn’t hesitate, doing just as they said. She’ll question it later, but for now she runs.

_________________

It’s later than he’d intended for it to be when Keith steps up to his home, but not for lack of trying. He reaches out to grip the doorknob and pauses with his fingers wrapped around it, tilting his head back to stare up at the full moon above him, his eyes tracking the path of a blinking satellite. Not for the first time, he wishes that he knew which one it was. He wonders if his husband would know. While Keith loves stories and delights in legends, his better half is obsessive over the stars and all the things the world puts up there with them. 

The thought leads him backwards, though, towards his own fixation, and he closes his eyes as the memory of the kids at the diner flashes through his mind. He thinks of Trent, the almost studious glint in his eyes as he’d listened to Keith talk, then tried to pick his words apart, despite his obvious distaste for everyone around him. His mind moves to Jessica, eager with excitement pouring off of her at every new word he said. How different she’d been, but still the same at her core. Dismissive where Trent was argumentative, argumentative where he was dismissive. Neither of them believing a word he said, and the longer he’d talked the more sure he was that they would be going out into the woods tonight. 

He opens his eyes, and his thoughts fall on the last member of their group, Emily. He remembers how timid she stayed, nervous of him the entire time as she tried to smooth over her friends worst words and mistakes. She’d been honest and interested, though, genuinely wanting to hear more of the stories he could share than the other two. He could tell that she didn’t care to know whether or not any of it was true, not even the parts that could be easily proven to be. He’s still not sure that she had even wanted to be there at first, instead just drug along behind her friends, their whims overpowering hers. She easily seemed the type to go along with it, too. He liked her, though, had loved her attention through the night for all that he’d hated it from her friends. It’s why he’d warned her, told her she could run. He hopes she makes it out, in the end. 

His hand tightens on the doorknob again, and this time he twists it, letting the door swing open with a tired creak and reminds himself he should oil that later. He steps in just enough to make sure the door will close and doesn’t worry about letting it slam. 

“Keith,” a voice calls from down the hall, “is that you?”

“No.” The word hangs in the air for a moment before there’s a snort, and then his husband is rounding the corner into the room. He looks sleep soft and tousled, and Keith can’t help but smile at him as he wonders if he woke him. “Sorry I’m late, but I brought you dinner to make up for it.”

“Did you now?” His voice is low as he asks, sending a shock down Keith's spine. His eyes sharpen, and he breaks eye contact to let them travel down. Keith’s hand tightens around the offering he’d brought in for being late. At home, there’s few things he enjoys more than those eyes piercing into him. Tonight they catch on his mouth, gaze going hot before moving down the line of his throat and stopping dead at his collar. 

He blinks, and there’s an arm around his waist and a face buried in his neck. A wet tongue licks a long line across his skin, making his breath catch in his throat. A searing kiss accompanied by a the scratch of teeth meets his Adam’s apple when his head falls back, and he can’t help but groan. A cold hand slips beneath the edge of his shirt, long fingers pressing into his lower back to tug him firm against a hard chest. 

“You taste so good tonight.” The words are hot against Keith's neck, and his grip falters. The meal he’d brought falling to the floor with a muted thump as warm breath ghosts across his wet skin. He reaches with his now free hand, grabbing at the hand fisted in his side then sliding it up along a well toned arm. His nails scratch at a shoulder, fingers digging in and drawing across bare skin to the back of his neck, when teeth find his collar, nipping slightly before pulling back at Keith’s warning. He hums low in his throat in appreciation before he pushes his hand in to thick hair and jerks, yanking his husbands face away from him and forcing him to stop. 

“You need to eat, before it goes too cold.” The look Keith gets in response to his words is borderline petulant, lips pressed tight over teeth not doing a thing to hide how hungry he is. Keith nearly melts at it, the sharp look he’d been sporting softening into something more simmering. He lets go of the hair in his hand to push at the chest still pressed against him, shoving the other man back to put space between them. It earns him a long whine vibrating from somewhere high in the throat, but he ignores it to bend down and lift the offering into the air. Still warm, but barely.

“Fresh?” The question makes Keith smile up at him, shoving it against his chest just to watch the way his eyes hood, mouth falling lax as he breathes in the scent. 

“As fresh as possible,” he promises, and thinks it’s a pity, really, that it’s not more fresh. He can almost imagine the look on he’d get if it were. “Would have been fresher if you’d come with me.”

He’s rewarded with hungry eyes looking up at him from beneath thick, dark lashes and a smile as sharp as a knife. It settles heavy in his gut, and he wishes he hadn’t stopped him for food. It almost makes his heart rush at how knowing it is. “We both know you enjoy going more than I do.”

“Hmm...you’re right.” Keith reaches forward to bury that smile into a frail, bruised neck. “He may have been breathing when I started home, but Trent’s only getting colder while you wait around. Now _eat_ , Shiro.”

He hears more than sees when Shiro’s teeth sink into soft skin, but the sound alone is intoxicating to him. He reaches out a steady hand, fingers pressing into the hair falling in Shiro’s face to pull it away, and growls when he meets eyes already watching him, making a flare of arousal stir low in his stomach. His grip on Shiro’s hair tightens, watching the way Shiro’s eyes roll back and close, a groan rumbling out from somewhere deep in his chest. 

He watches the scene in front of him with a heavy gaze, biting hard on his bottom lip. A thick arm wrapped tight around an unmoving chest, muscles locked far tighter than they need to be, threatening to break the body in his arms. He almost thinks he hears the sound of a rib cracking over the obscene noises his husband makes. 

His eyes move up, taking in the pale skin next to Shiro’s face, limp neck straining to the side as the head lulls at an angle with Shiro’s free hand holding it back against his shoulder, fingers spread wide from jaw to temple to keep it back against his shoulder instead of letting it slump forward. Like this he can only see bits of the expression frozen on Trent’s face, but he can remember it well enough to fill in the blanks. From the angle he’s at, though, he can see one glassy green eye staring out from between Shiro’s fingers, an echo of fear forever carved within it. 

He pets at Shiro’s hair, pushing his it back and away, forcing it to lay out of his face so that it won’t fall when he pulls his hand away. He moves, pressing fingers of one hand under Trent’s jaw to keep his head in place as he wraps the fingers of his free hand around Shiro’s wrist. He tugs softly, guiding Shiro’s hand to uncover the face, taking in the sight once more. He thinks about how the boy had unwittingly called him a psychopath and snarls, his lip curling away from his teeth the same way it had when he’d realized how long it would take to get him alone. 

He curls his hand up, digging his fingers to hook tight beneath the Trent’s jaw, moving to jam his thumb into his mouth. He uses it to leverage the mouth open, bringing Shiro’s hand back up once again. He stares for a moment at how his thumb pulls at the corner of the boy’s mouth, then he replaces his hand for Shiro’s. This time the eyes stay uncovered as Shiro fits three fingers inside, curling them down around teeth and pressing into soft tongue while his thumb hooks tight beneath a jaw, locking it in place. 

Keith slides his hand away slowly, trailing his fingers down the long line of a bare neck until he meets where Shiro’s mouth is latched against skin. He’s drinking slower than he should tonight considering no heart was pumping when he began. Keith would scold him, if not for the show. Little rivulets of blood escape from the corners of his mouth, trailing down to where clavicle meets neck, muscle and tendon pulled taut enough to leave a stressed, exaggerated divot behind for it to pool in. 

Faintly, Keith trails his fingers down, following the tiny carmine stream down until his the pads of his fingers dip into the little lake, pushing it past the edges and watching as it spills out and down. He casts his gaze over the scene in front of him, and thinks about the last time Shiro held had held him up like this. His neck aches at the memory of it. It’s a bitter thought to have, to think that Trent’s probably never looked better than he does being used by Shiro in this moment. He’ll never understand how lucky he is, but Keith vows to be appreciative for him. 

His eyes move back to Shiro, and he’s not shocked to see the man already looking back at him. His eyes take on a golden sheen in the half-light of their house, and Keith feels weak to it. He doesn’t lift his fingers as he begins to move, smearing blood as he steps to the right. Shiro doesn’t drop his gaze until he’s touching him, hand sliding to rest a palm against his shoulder, turning to press his chest up against Shiro’s back.

He kisses along Shiro’s spine and up his neck as he smooths hands slowly across the broad back in front of him, palms flat as he tries to touch as much as he can. He kisses his way over a shoulder, leaning on his toes to hook his chin there to kiss at the side of Shiro’s neck, burying his face in it. His hands slide along Shiro’s sides, following the curve of his body to squeeze between his chest and the body held tight against it, then down. He feels the way Shiro’s stomach jerks when he touches it, spreading his fingers out and reaching towards his sweats, fingers ducking under the band. 

He opens his mouth, scrapes his teeth over Shiro’s skin and closes his eyes at the full body shiver it earns him. He flexes, pressing his hands into Shiro’s abdomen to pull him tight against his body, rolling his hips forward to press into the swell of Shiro’s ass as he bites down. Shiro’s skin splits apart for Keith, the sharp points of his fangs not meeting any resistance as they sink in. 

Shiro jerks in his arms as the first splash of copper hits his tongue. Because of his position, it’s loud in his ear when Shiro’s jaw drops, resulting in an obscenely loud, wet pop of teeth pulling free. Shiro’s head tilts backwards, away from Trent’s neck as his chest heaves and his arms fall slack, the body he’d been supporting crumpling to the ground in with a thud. 

Keith closes his eyes when he feels Shiro’s hand in his hair, and he hums around the the skin in his mouth when it presses on him, heavy, encouraging him to drink, to take. He pulls away instead, slowly retracting his fangs from Shiro to hear the long, low groan that breaks from his throat. Fingers tighten in his hair, pulling in a way that verges past pain and into pleasure when he starts to kiss at the wounds, licking at them to catch any blood that wants to seep out.

“Wh-what’d you do that for?” Shiro sounds out of breath, dazed. He sounds the same way Keith feels.

“You just looked so goddamn delicious, baby,” he lets his teeth scrape over Shiro’s skin to punctuate it, smiling faintly when it gets him another full body shiver. “I just couldn’t resist.”

Shiro lets out a whine that drives Keith wild, high on his recent meal and lust drunk. Shiro forces Keith to loosen his grip so he can turn, then he winds an arm around Keith’s waist. Keith brings his up to drape over Shiro’s shoulders, loosely looping them there. “That’s how I felt when I saw you in front of that door.”

He steps forward, forcing Keith back towards the hall, herding him towards their bedroom. Keith looks up at him, not at all shocked to see Shiro’s eyes trained heavily on his, or the heady look in them. 

“You come in here,” Shiro lowers his head, lips a breath away from Keith’s, “covered in blood, smelling like the best meal I’ve ever come across,” he dips his head further, bloody lips dragging along Keith’s jaw, “dragging a body behind you, barely dead, acting like you weren’t the hottest thing this side of the universe.”

“And then you turn me away and tell me to eat. Like you aren’t the only thing in the room I want to be eating.” He moves down, tipping Keith’s head back as he scrapes his teeth across Keith’s neck in a slow drag. “Then you have the nerve to bite me?” 

He hums, sending shivers down Keith’s spine. Then he whispers, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

The low note his voice has taken on makes Keith’s mouth go dry, his throat working hard around a heavy swallow while he tries to pretend it doesn’t scramble his thoughts. He tightens his arms around Shiro, pulling himself more flush against him. He licks his lips and tries to keep his excitement out of his words. “What would you like to do with me?”

Shiro’s chest jerks against his in a huffed laugh, and there’s hot breath against Keith’s ear as he breathes the words, “I’d like to fuck you ‘til you scream.”

A century and a half since he turned him, and he’s still not used to effect Shiro can have on him. His breath catches at the words, and then Shiro shoves his hands against his chest, breaking the hold he has on his neck to make him collapse backwards onto the bed. It’s more of a throw than a push, but Keith’s too focused on the dark eyes stalking towards him to really care about such a small fact. Keith looks up at him, bringing his lip between his teeth when Shiro reaches down to grab the bottom of his shirt.

“You look so good in red, baby,” he pulls the shirt up slowly, and Keith’s skin breaks out in goosebumps where it’s exposed, “but these clothes have to go.”

He lifts his arms when Shiro reaches his chest, letting him pull the shirt off once he peels it from his skin, stuck with tacky blood that smears as it’s jerked off his body entirely. Shiro pets a hand through his hair, fingers carding it away from his face as he looks down at him, and Keith can’t help but stare. There’s blood smeared across his mouth, trailing down his chin. His shoulder is still oozing from where Keith had bitten him, and the sight of it makes Keith lick his lips, chasing the memory of the taste he’d gotten. 

He meets Shiro’s eyes, reaching forward to grab at his waistband. He pulls at it, let’s it snap against Shiro before he’s moving away, pushing himself back until he’s got enough room to get his own pants off instead, leaning back as he slowly undoes them, enjoying the way Shiro’s eyes follow his hands as he pushes them down. He doesn’t stop watching until Keith drops them to the floor, and Keith revels in the attention. 

Keith turns, crawling up the bed when Shiro hooks his thumbs in his sweats and starts to push them off. He feels the bed dip behind him while he searches through the nightstand, and then there’s a chest pressed against his back, a long arm reaching around him to pluck what he was looking for out of his grasp. Shiro drops a kiss to his shoulder before he pulls away, and Keith turns in time to see him setting the lube aside. 

“We don’t need that yet.” Shiro sits back and reaches for him, grabbing his hand and pulling gently. Keith can’t help but follow along, shuffling forward until Shiro wraps arms around him and pulls him into his lap. Keith settles there, legs folded on either side of Shiro’s. 

He leans in to kiss him, one hand coming up to cup Shiro’s face while the other grips his neck, thumb pressing under his jaw. Shiro’s mouth opens against his, tongue hot as it licks against his lips. He’s not sure he can call it a kiss so much as it feels like Shiro is trying to eat him alive, cleaning sticky blood from his mouth with long sweeps of his tongue. Keith opens his mouth to it, then bites at Shiro’s tongue when he won’t calm down.

Shiro bites at his bottom lip in response and pulls, letting his fangs scrape against the soft inner skin before he lets it fall from his grasp, then he moves to pressing biting kisses down the line of Keith’s throat. A hand snakes up Keith’s back and tangles into his hair, jerking his head back to expose more of his throat as Shiro nips at him, leaving stinging little spots along his neck. Keith wraps an arm around Shiro’s neck and slides the other down his back, reaching as far as he can before digging his nails to scratch at his skin.

A hand runs down his side slowly, slipping down along his thigh and lifting at his knee, and it takes him a moment to realize what Shiro is urging him to do. He lifts himself up slightly, listening to Shiro growl as it presses him closer for just a moment, and lets Shiro guide his leg to hook around his waist. 

Letting go of his leg, Shiro starts to lean forward, tipping Keith back into the mattress. The hand in his hair moves, untangling from where it was fisted to reach up and cup the back of his head. Shiro bites once at his collar then starts kissing down his chest in earnest, and Keith can’t help the small noise that escapes his throat when Shiro bites at a nipple, teeth breaking skin just before he pulls away and continues down. 

His breath ghosts over Keith’s skin, trailing goosebumps in his wake, and Keith struggles to breathe when Shiro bites at his hips. It only lasts a moment, sharp teeth sinking in only to immediately pull away, but it’s enough to send his head spinning. He arches back, a choked moan escaping from his throat. 

Shiro moves again, lips whispering over his dick before kissing the head on his way, and Keith leans up to look at him. Shiro’s watching him from beneath his lashes, tongue peeking out to lick at his slit but he doesn’t stay, instead moving to kiss at the skin next to his groin, opening his mouth wide to scrape his teeth down to the inside of Keith’s thigh. 

He leaves feather light kisses there, so soft that if he hadn’t been watching, Keith wouldn’t have been able to tell if they were real. Then his vision swims as Shiro bites down properly. His leg jerks, and he can’t make his thoughts move past the feeling of Shiro’s teeth sinking in further because of it. There’s a loud, wet sound and then Keith can feel his blood rushing from the area in slow, agonizing drags. He gasps, back arching as Shiro lifts one hand free of his thigh to bring his opposite leg up to rest over his shoulder. 

Keith stretches an arm out across the mattress, fingers digging into the sheets and threatening to rip them in his grip. His chest heaves, mouth falling open on loud breaths as he reaches his other hand down between his legs to press against the back of Shiro’s head, holding him in place. 

He jerks when he feels a finger circling his entrance, lube cold against him as it presses in slowly. He moves in time with his drinks, pressing in on each small suck against his thigh until Keith tugs at his hair.

“M-more, babe, plea-” he breaks off in a moan as Shiro presses another finger inside. He’s torn between moving against them and keeping still as Shiro works him open on his fingers, unable to think through the combined feeling of fingers curling up against him and the soul deep feeling of losing blood. He arches off the bed, tries to ignore the sound that breaks free from his throat, and tightens his grip on Shiro’s hair to jerk at him.

Shiro comes free with a lewd slurp, teeth ripping against skin slightly before he realizes to let go. When Keith can see straight again, he tries to push up onto an elbow to look down at him. Shiro looks up back at him, eyes heavy-lidded and dark, and Keith forgets about the hand moving between his legs in light of the view. His breath catches, chest hitching as his eyes rake over Shiro’s face. His smile is killer, soft and sated, fangs peeking out from beneath his top lip, bloodstained and beautiful. There’s smears of blood around his lips, tainting his mouth ruby, and Keith’s eyes follow the trail where it had leaked down his bottom lip, spilled across his chin and run rivulets down his throat. 

Keith’s hand falls from Shiro’s hair, fingers ghosting down the side of his face until he reaches his lips. He slides the tips of his fingers against them and then back to his jaw, smears of red trailing in his wake. He lets his hand rest there, thumb coming to rest on his bottom lip. He uses it to tug Shiro’s lip down, exposing red stained teeth for a moment before Shiro drops his jaw slightly and he presses in. He closes his eyes for a moment, a sigh escaping him as he presses against Shiro’s tongue, and Shiro sucks at him. He’s reminded, vividly, of how much Shiro likes to drink from him when he feels the press of a sharp tooth breaking skin. 

He slides his thumb out, opening his eyes to smear the blood across Shiro’s chin, another thrill running through him to know that it’s mostly his. He watches Shiro lean into the touch, and then he guides his face up. 

Shiro pulls his hands away and crawls up his body, Keith’s leg falling from his shoulder to hook around his waist instead. Keith pulls him down into a gentle kiss, licking the taste of his own blood from Shiro’s lips. He groans and slings an arm around Shiro’s neck, pulling away to look him in the eye.

“What was it you said you were going to do to me?” 

“I said,” he watches with a heavy gaze as Shiro licks his lips and feels more than sees when Shiro grabs his injured leg, hitching it up to drape over his arm, “that I was going to fuck you.”

The heat in Shiro’s eyes makes him shudder as he pulls him down, leaning up to whisper against Shiro’s ear, “Then why aren’t you doing it?”

It earns him a growl, and Shiro’s free hand reaching between them to line himself up. He feels the head press against him, and he buries his face in Shiro’s neck. 

With the first press, he lays a kiss at the junction where shoulder meets neck.

At the second, he lets out a soft moan, mouth falling open and teeth scraping against skin. 

The third time Shiro rolls his hips against him, he gets impatient. He kicks his heel against Shiro’s ass, hand sliding up into his hair to tilt his head and bare his neck. It earns him a rough thrust, seating Shiro deep within him, splitting him open and pulling a high note from his throat. He latches on, muffling it in Shiro’s skin, and sinks his teeth in. 

Shiro jerks against him when he breaks skin, his hips grinding hard against his ass. He closes his eyes and sucks once, long and hard, and then Shiro is moving against him. Keith’s grip on him tightens as he sets a brutal pace, and he chokes on the blood that trickles into his mouth. 

“Fuck,” the word is groaned against his ear, stretched long and deep, and Keith can feel it in his gut. He chokes on a moan, blood messily leaking from the corners of his mouth before he pulls away with a gasp, dropping his head back. “Blood's such a good look on you, baby.”

There’s a mouth against his neck, teeth nipping at his Adam’s apple, a jaw opening wide and a hot tongue against his skin. He tries to swallow when Shiro presses teeth into his throat, fangs scraping skin to leave welts of blood behind. He can’t help the way his breath stutters out of him. He ducks his head until he can get to the corner of Shiro’s jaw, biting hard at the skin there until it bleeds free, earning him a hissed curse and one particularly powerful thrust slaming against his prostate. It makes his back arch, mouth falling away from Shiro to let out a choked off scream.

“That’s right, baby boy.” Shiro presses the leg over his arm up, holding it in place by pressing his hand into the mattress. He moves above Keith, shifting his weight there to grab at a hip with the other. He bites at Keith’s lips as his hips stutter. “Scream for me.”

Shiro’s next thrust is hard, fingers digging into Keith’s skin hard enough to bruise and draw blood. He’s unrelenting, each rough rock of his hips sending the bed creaking to slam against the wall, and it’s all Keith can do to scramble for purchase and try to press himself into Shiro’s chest. 

“So good, fuck, love you so much, ‘s so good,” he’s not sure if is mindless babbling is coherent, but it gets Shiro moving faster, and that’s all Keith cares about at the moment. His breath catches in his throat, mouth falling open against Shiro’s chest. He breathes roughly in short bursts, each thrust pushing a whine from him until he tenses. 

He trembles around Shiro, and he can feel the heat spreading through his body, pressure building each time Shiro fucks into him. His chest heaves, a choked sob breaking free from his throat. He feels Shiro’s teeth rip into his shoulder, and he screams, the tension in him snapping free before his jaw clamps down on Shiro’s pec, and he can taste the blood on his tongue as his vision goes black. 

Shiro fucks him through it mercilessly. He feels hot splashes against his chest, but he can’t tell if it’s his own cum or blood falling from the bite that’s keeping him grounded. Bright spots dot his vision as he feels Shiro’s hips stutter before he cums, filling Keith in a way that draws a whimper from the back of his throat. 

As Shiro pulls out, he works his jaw open slowly, releasing Shiro’s pec from between his fangs. He laps at the blood that falls, licking to soothe the wound until it slows to a barely there ooze. His leg falls from Shiro’s waist, and then his other is gently released. Shiro pulls away from him slowly, moving from pressing soft kisses against the deep bite on his shoulder to dotting his face with feather-light kisses, then he rolls to the side, wrapping an arm around Keith to bring him along.

He trails his fingers across the marks he’d left on Shiro’s skin, painting with the blood that they’ll have to shower away soon. A hand comes up, fingers carding through his hair as they catch their breath. 

“Tell me a story?” Shiro’s voice is quiet in the dark, a comforting presence wrapping around Keith, and so he does. He tells him one of his favorites, about a little girl who stumbled into a wolves den, but was so sweet that when the wolf came for her, he asked her to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment down below to sign my petition for more lore master Keith.  
> The town is named Marmora, so yes all your blade faves have thick country accents. You're welcome.  
> Keith does, in fact, end up telling Shiro about Acxa's invitation later, while they're *achem* taking out the trash.


End file.
